


Blank Slates and Hall Passes

by celli, cinderlily



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: M/M, permission to perform adultery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:02:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22181287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celli/pseuds/celli, https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderlily/pseuds/cinderlily
Summary: “I have never had sex with Jonathan freaking Favreau,” Jon said flatly.
Relationships: Emily Black Favreau/Jon Favreau, Jon Favreau/Jon Lovett, Ronan Farrow/Jon Lovett
Comments: 6
Kudos: 65





	Blank Slates and Hall Passes

It had started as a game night, but Jon wasn’t exactly shocked when it devolved quickly into drinking and ignoring the game of Ticket to Ride. WIth Ronan spending so much time on the West Coast now, they were spending more time together, but were still learning what kind of activities this little friend group would tolerate. They could go to baseball games, but Jon had his limit, and while they sometimes could bring out Cards Against Humanity, they were still looking for another game to agree on. So instead it was wine, snacks and a cool fall evening on the Favreaus' back deck, with the dogs happily playing in the yard. 

Ronan, a few glasses in, was the one to bring the whole thing up, which by far was the most bizarre part of a pretty fucking bizarre situation as far as Jon was concerned. 

He wasn’t alone, though, in gawking at his fiancé; Favs was kind enough to join in. “Excuse me?” His voice was more squeak than actual words but Jon fucking understood him. 

“Well, you and Jonathan have always had a thing for each other,” Ronan started, looking between Favs and Jon before turning to Emily. “Am I wrong?” 

Emily was doubled over with shaking silent laughter. She did stop just long enough to lift her head and say, “Oh my gosh, you’re so right…” 

Favs looked at Jon and raised his eyebrows, as if to ask 'Do you know what's going on?' Jon was pretty sure his facial response amounted to “What the fuck,” but Favs nodded in agreement. 

“I have never had sex with Jonathan freaking Favreau,” Jon said flatly. 

“Oh come on, you’ve known him long enough to call him Jon. Or at least Favs,” Emily said, still laughing and wiping tears away from her face. She waggled her eyebrows. “And so intimately.” 

Jon tried to send a pleading ‘stop’ look, but there were enough empty wine bottles on the table and it was late enough at night that she wasn’t going to get it at all. 

Ronan looked confused, which was kind of endearing and frustrating in turn. “It’s fine, though. You know I’m still friends with Jackson.” 

Jon was very aware that Ronan was still friends with his strapping freaking Norwegian ex-boyfriend, thank you very much. “Favs is straight,” he hissed.

Emily coughed. “That’s a stretch.” 

The room tilted on its axis and then re-righted itself. He’d just blacked out and come to and it was fine, Jon told himself. The world was right and Emily hadn’t just suggested what he thought she had. 

“I would go with _flexible_,” Favs said across the table, almost directly into his drink. His shy smile curved around the glass. “Okay, bad time for a pun.” 

The room went freakishly still for a long moment, possibly not as long as it felt, but it was like the whole of his brain was reorganizing. You don’t spend the bulk of a friendship shoving a guy into the ‘STRAIGHT, WILL BREAK YOUR HEART’ box to find out he was in the ‘TOO PRETTY FOR YOU’ box instead without needing some time to process. He swallowed and it sounded so loud around him that he was sure they all heard it. 

His glass was empty, so he grabbed at the bottle, almost dropping it twice. He hadn’t needed a drink this badly since the inauguration. Ugh, and all they had was fucking wine. He poured himself a large glass and drank half in a gulp.

“We are going to get exceedingly drunk and never discuss this ever again. Repression is usually the Gentile’s role, but I feel I should be exempted as I was in the closet a painfully long time. It’s only fair.” 

“Jonathan…” 

He shook his head, took another gulp. “We're going to get drunk and never talk about you assuming I’d fucked Favreau and forgotten to tell you. And apparently Favs is bi now, so we’re going to drink till that is gone as well. All gone. Nice clean wipe. Like _Eternal Sunshine_ but with a hangover and most likely a dog in my face who has to pee.” 

Jon drank the rest of the glass. It was a pretty good wine, which he knew since he’d bought it, and yet not nearly strong enough. The room was quiet again, not a great sign, but he focused on pouring without spreading it on the Favreaus’ floor. He braved a look up to find Favs looking nervous and Emily and Ronan smiling at each other. 

Emily slapped her hand on the table. “Hall pass?” 

Ronan slapped his hand on top of hers. “Hall pass.” 

“No,” Jon said.

“_Ems_.” Favs rolled his eyes. “Stop. Joke too far.” 

Emily smiled at him in the way she only ever smiled at him. Jon was always jealous of that smile when he went too long between getting his own from Ronan. “Lovett, you don’t have to use it, but you can. Whenever. Or. Like once? I don’t know how they work.” 

“Don’t ask me.” Ronan shrugged. “First time.” 

“It’s not happening, so don’t worry. Remember, blank slate? Do we have anything stronger than this?” 

Emily leaned back in her chair and sighed. “You’re no fun in your old age, Lovett.” 

Jon kicked her under the table. Favs, miraculously, manifested a bottle of tequila. 

Jon could kiss him. Only not. No. 

*

Everyone awoke the next morning seeming to have forgotten (or have chosen to forget) the night before. Jon couldn’t say he minded. Parts had fuzzed out, but not the parts that seemed to find a way of worming into his head. 

Now his brain was helpfully focusing on everything Favs did. The man touched his mouth entirely too much. How dare he. And he leaned across the table to look at Jon’s screen. All. The. Time. And he just leaned on things in general, like everybody needed to be reminded he was long and lanky. 

“You put this idea in my mind, you monster,” he said to Ronan as they decompressed on their couch that evening, Pundit in between them. 

Ronan laughed. “No. Jonathan, I may have brought it to the front of your mind, but it was there. I can’t believe I caught it when you hadn’t. I’m generally not that good at reading social cues.” 

“Says the man who can read an interviewee from the way they say ‘hi’.” 

“You know what I meant,” Ronan said. “But Jonathan… if you wanted to. I want you to know I’m okay with it.” 

“This is crazy,” Jon said and scared Pundit with his gesturing. “You are crazy.” 

Ronan didn’t hesitate. “I’ve spent too many hours with my therapist to accept that answer. I wasn’t kidding, you and Jon have always been _close_. If that’s something you need to explore, explore it. I know who we are. I love who we are.” 

“I love who we are, too.” 

He smiled at Jon. “And I know that, too, so we’re good.” 

“This is crazy.” 

“Already said that.” 

“Favs doesn’t want it.” 

Ronan arched an eyebrow. “How would you know?” 

“I’ll pass him a note after gym,” Jon snapped. “He’s married.” 

Ronan shrugged. “You will be too in a few months.” 

“He’s married to a _woman_.” 

“To each their own.” 

“I hate you,” Jon said, no heat in it.

Ronan smiled and gave him a kiss. “Yes, I can tell.” 

“Leave me alone.” 

“Till death do us part.” 

Jon planted his face into the couch pillow. 

* 

He settled into a new routine of ignoring. He could ignore. He was the king of ignoring emotions. It had got him through the 2010s. He was getting so good at it that he could barely tell that he was feeling weirdly for his friend and coworker. 

And then. And then the routine was taken down by an East Coast tour. He was constantly around Favs for six days. All the damn time. And it could not be denied that the two of them were on fire together. The quips were snappier, the takes were hotter, the games were funnier. He kept catching these looks from Favs out of the corner of his eye that - were imaginary, he told himself fiercely. And then Favs would brush past him in the green room and Jon’s whole body would light up, _damn you, Ronan_.

He dealt with it all by texting and sexting and, embarrassingly, having phone sex like he was 18, not 36. Ronan teased him constantly, once sending him a _gif_ of him laughing at something Favs had said. 

(How _had_ he not noticed. Jesus.)

Night five, post-show, Jon thought he might freaking jump out of his skin. His phone buzzed just as he got back to the hotel and he jumped at it. It was the small group chat of the four of them; they hadn’t used it since they’d set up that fateful dinner. This time there were no takeout options, but a picture with Emily and Ronan holding up a sign with a huge gold ticket on it. 

_Hall Pass. Hall Pass.  
HALL PASS.  
Love, your partners  
(who are sober but not for long).  
You two are exhausting. _

Jon heard pounding on his hotel room door. He opened it to a slightly out of breath and _half naked_ Favs. He took Favs by the arm and jerked him into the room. “What are you doing? Where is your shirt?” 

“Hall pass?” 

“Favs, listen, we can… Ronan gets ideas, you know and…” 

Their lips met and his whole body went still. Favs pulled back. 

“Fucking hall pass,” Favs said. “I can’t fucking stop thinking about it.”

“This is a bad idea,” Jon said, but he was leaning back into Favs as he said it.

“I mean, probably,” Favs said, “but have we ever let that stop us before?”

Jon pulled Favs back down to him and kissed him. “Fine,” he said. “But when this goes haywire, we’re clear that this is their fault.”

“Agreed,” Favs said.

Their arms tangled as Favs tried to get Jon’s shirt off and Jon went for Favs’s sweats. They both laughed, and it took some of the sting out of the nerves that had been zinging up and down Jon’s spine. He held up his arms and let Favs help him out of his shirt. Favs immediately leaned down for another kiss, then bent down to nibble his way across Jon’s collarbone.

“Oh, my fuck,” Jon said. He brought his hands up to Favs’s head and neck and tried to just hold on instead of holding him down. “Fuck, Favs.”

“What do you want?” Favs asked. “What do you want me to do?”

“Just put your hands on me,” Jon said, years of idle thoughts through staff meetings slamming back into him. “I always - always used to look at your hands - just put them on me, in me, I don’t care, Favs, just--”

Favs walked them back two steps and guided Jon down to the bed. They stared at each other for a minute, both breathing hard, and then Favs stripped his sweats off impatiently, then Jon’s a bit more gently. He knelt on the bed.

“I wanted my hands on you for years,” he said, trailing his fingers down Jon’s arm; Jon shivered. 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” he asked. “Some of us are going out of our minds waiting.”

Favs leaned down and kissed Jon, who arched up into him. “Come on,” he said against Favs’s mouth.

Favs lifted his head a little. “Shut it, Lovett.”

“Make me, Favreau,” Jon said.

Favs finally touched Jon, hands cupping his face, and Jon shut up embarrassingly quickly.

Favs smiled and kissed Jon again, holding him in place, then started to move his hands downward, exploring Jon’s cheeks and mouth and throat with those long, elegant fingers as he went. He followed his hands with his mouth all the way down Jon’s throat. He dug his fingers into Jon’s biceps a little; Jon made a noise low in his throat.

“You know the first time you wore that black shirt to the office? You remember that shirt?” Favs asked.

“Yeah, sure,” Jon said. 

“Liar,” Favs said. “It was this black Sleeping Giants T-shirt, and it made your arms--” His hands tightened again. “I wanted to grab you in the studio during the ad read.”

“I’m framing that shirt,” Jon said. “I’m finding that shirt, and then I’m framing it. Emily will help me. She loves a good project.”

Favs bent and kissed Jon’s arm, next to where Favs’s hand still held him. He bit down just enough to make Jon’s breath come faster.

Favs moved on to Jon’s chest, spending an inordinate amount of time torturing Jon by sucking on his nipples while leaving his hands just at the base of Jon’s stomach. 

“Come _on_, you fucker, I’m going to die of blue balls and you’re going to have to explain it to the guests at my wedding.”

Favs just laughed at him, but finally, finally he got one hand on Lovett’s cock and Lovett just about came off the bed. He groaned, eyes closing, hands reaching out for Favs’s shoulders. 

“Do you have lube?” Favs asked. Jon could feel the hand on his hip clenching and releasing, the only sign of tension in Favs.

“Suitcase,” Jon gasped.

Favs was gone for about ten horrible seconds, then he was back on the bed and stroking Lovett’s cock. “Fuck. _Fuck_,” Jon said. 

And then Favs ran two slick fingers up Jon’s inner thigh and Jon’s eyes popped open; Favs was eyeing him hopefully. “You said to put my hands on you _and_ in you,” Favs said. “Can I - I’ve wanted to for--”

“Yes, are you kidding me,” Jon said, pulling a knee up to give Favs better access. “Please, oh fuck, _Favs_,” and his awareness of what he was saying left him as Favs slid a finger in and Jon tried to remember how breathing worked. 

Favs was a little hesitant at first, but either Jon’s enthusiasm or his own took over, and pretty quickly he had three fingers in Jon, with the other hand working in counterpoint on his cock. Jon was pretty sure he was going to die like this and that was just fine with him.

“Glad to hear it,” Favs said, and Jon realized belatedly that he was voicing his internal monologue. He tried to stop, but Favs was hitting all the right spots in all the right ways, and a handful of unbidden and probably embarrassing words spilled out just before he came.

Favs kept his hands on Jon throughout, then when Jon fell back onto the bed Favs reached for his own cock. “Hey, wait for me,” Jon said, and reached a hand out to him.

“Not much room for waiting after that,” Favs said hoarsely. “That was fucking mind-blowing, Lovett.”

“I live to serve,” Jon said. He tangled his fingers with Favs’s on Favs’s cock. It was as elegant and gorgeous as the rest of him, naturally, and Jon made sure to get his hands all over it. It was only fair, after Favs had had his turn, which Jon told him.

Favs laughed, or tried to, even though his body was taut with the strain of impending orgasm. Jon grinned up at him. “Come on, Favs,” he said. “Didn’t you ever, when you were noticing my biceps and my whatever, think about the rest of it? About what I could do for you? About coming all over me?”

“_Fuck_,” Favs said, louder than he’d gotten yet, and came all over both their hands and Jon’s stomach.

After Favs had recovered a bit and gotten both of them cleaned up (because that was just the kind of fucking gentleman he was, Jesus), they lay collapsed on the bed next to each other.

“Well? Worth waiting for?” Jon asked, because who was he if not the guy who pressed on a bruise just to see how much it hurt?

Favs laughed full and loud this time. “Yeah, I think so.” He turned to face Lovett. “What about you?”

Lovett found himself smiling back. “You know, it might not be the worst idea Ronan and Emily have ever had.”

“Ugh, they’re going to be so smug.”

“The smuggest.”

They lay quietly for a second.

“Should we call them?” Favs asked.

“Yes. Right now. Come on.” Lovett reached for his phone. Favs settled in next to him, and Lovett leaned over to knock their shoulders together so they could both be in the camera frame… and maybe to sneak in some additional cuddling, sue him.

There was a click as the call picked up.

Jon and Favs waved. “So…” Lovett started.

**Author's Note:**

> So started with Celli asking Cinderlily to write her 'something' and Celli gifting Cinderliy with pure and utter joy. (cinderlily says this with no bias at all.) 
> 
> Thanks to labellementeuse for the beta!


End file.
